Toxic Terrain Read online

  “What in the fuck is going on?” he shouted. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at my house, cousin.”

  “Gordon? Did you just kick me in the nuts?”

  “I had to, cousin. I couldn’t wake you up.”

  Dan rubbed his jaw and looked around at the filthy room. The events of the night started to come back to him. “You hit me!”

  “Yeah, cousin, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Why the hell did you have to go and hit me?”

  “You were bawling like a freshly weened calf,” Gould said. “It was unseemly.”

  “Christ, Gordie, you didn’t need to hit me. And you sure as hell didn’t need to kick me in the nuts. Why’d you need to wake me up so bad?”

  “We got help coming.”

  “Help?” Dan asked. “Someone else know about this damned mess?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got some business partners who have a vested interest in all this.”

  “Business partners? What the hell you talking about, Gordie?”

  “I’m working with those Chinese businessmen out at Ag Con.”

  “Goddamn it, Gordie, what are doing hooking up with those people? They’re nothing but trouble.”

  “You got a problem with foreigners, Dan? I never took you to be a racist.”

  “Hell, no. You know what my problem is, Gordie. My problem is those Ag Con bastards are nothing but a bunch of gangsters and thugs.”

  “How does that make them different than the North Dakota Cattle Raisers’ Association? Or the oil companies or the coal companies? Or the state legislature, for that matter?”

  “I’ll tell you what the difference is,” Dan said. “You ever have to scrape the brains of a law-enforcement officer off your wall when you were dealing with the association or the coal companies or the legislature? That’s the damned difference. I’m getting the fuck out of here before those goons get here. You can keep your $100,000.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Gould said. “The head of Ag Con needs you to do him a favor.”

  “He can go fuck himself,” Dan said. “I’m out of here.”

  Dan got up to leave, but Gould stood in the doorway. He held a compact 1911 autoloader in his hand, cocked, but not locked. “I said I can’t let you do that,” Gould said. “The head guy wants you to fly him to Iowa in your plane.” Dan owned a 1990 Beechcraft Baron 58, a twin-engine airplane.

  “What are you going to do, Gordon, shoot me?”

  “I don’t know, Dan. All I know is that if you don’t come through for me on this one, the Chinese could very well shoot me.”

  “Then put the damned gun away, Gordie. You’re making me nervous.” Gould flicked the safety to the “on” position and put the .45 back in his inside-the-waistband holster. “You really think that son of a bitch will kill you if I don’t fly him to Iowa?”

  “I know he will. I didn’t realize what a badass he was until all this started.”

  “Just what exactly is ‘all this’?” Dan asked.

  “I’ll be goddamned if I know, Dan. Whatever it is, it’s real bad. But I think it’s almost over. I think that if you fly him to Iowa, I might be home free. Will you do it?”

  “You know that $100,000 you offered me?” Dan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Make it $200,000.”

  “Goddamn it, Dan, you’re killing me.”

  “Sounds to me like it’s the Ag Con guy who’s going to kill you, and I damn well know that you wouldn’t get mixed up with men like that unless they were paying you a lot more than $200,000, so you’ll still be money ahead. We got a deal?”

  “We got a deal.”

  They had just shaken hands when a Chevy Tahoe filled with security guards from Ag Con pulled up. A five-man crew came in and without saying a word began cleaning up the mess from the shootings. The man who appeared to be in charge, a large, square-headed blond fellow with a strong Polish accent, said, “Where are the bodies?”

  “In the back of the pickup,” Gould said. “We wrapped them in a tarp.”

  “Good,” he said. “We’ll dispose of the bodies and the vehicle at the same time.”

  “I don’t suppose we could get the pickup back when you’re finished?” Gould asked.

  “We’ll dispose of the bodies and the vehicle at the same time,” the man repeated.

  “Come on,” Gould said to Dan, “let’s go get your plane ready and fly it to Weydahl.” Weydahl Field Airport was a small airstrip just north of Killdeer, the closest landing strip to Ag Con’s Killdeer Mountain facility. It was where Dan was supposed to pick up Chen. Gould planned to accompany his cousin to make sure he carried through on his end of the deal.

  LIANG AND THE OTHER Chinese man walked for miles down the riverbanks without seeing any sign of Cooper and Kemp. Finally Liang decided it was time to turn around. They scoured the riverbanks just as closely on the way back to the vehicle but saw nothing of value.

  Liang radioed the other two men. When he received no response, he and his partner quickened their pace. It could have been a simple radio malfunction, but given the events of the past several days, the colonel doubted it would turn out to be anything simple.

  As they neared the vehicles, Liang saw something that confirmed his worst fears—the bodies of his two comrades floating in the water, headed north, downstream toward the Missouri River, or the “Big Missouri,” as the locals called it in order to differentiate between it and the Little Missouri.

  Liang had almost been willing to concede defeat, but the sight of his fallen comrades told him that Cooper had to be in the vicinity.

  “Keep going!” he shouted to his partner, and they continued past the vehicles, in the direction from which the bodies had floated.

  The colonel almost missed the spot where the men had to have been killed. Cooper had done a fair job of covering the blood and disguising his tracks, but he had been rushed and had left a few splashes of blood on a rock. Once Liang knew that Cooper had brushed over his tracks, it was easy to discern the area that had been brushed.

  It appeared as though his quarry had gone west, up the large rock formations. Liang whistled, and when he had his partner’s attention he motioned that they would head west. The man crossed the river and the pair climbed the rocky riverbank.

  At the top of the rocks Liang saw the likely destination for Cooper and Kemp, a small ranch nestled in the Badlands. Lights were on in the barn and the house, which was peculiar, since it was after one in the morning, and the locals tended to go to bed early. Liang caught a glimpse of taillights heading southwest along the long driveway. Cooper and Kemp were escaping.

  He scanned the ranch yard for another vehicle he could commandeer in order to pursue his quarry. He settled on a flatbed truck as the most likely choice when something caught his eye off in the distance. He lifted his rifle and couldn’t quite believe what he saw through the scope— Cooper disappearing into the hills on horseback. He was headed northeast, roughly in the direction of Ag Con’s Killdeer Mountain facility. Though it was a fairly long drive, since they’d have to circumvent the river and the mountains, if there was a path along the river that was passable on horseback, Cooper could get to the facility in about the same amount of time as it would take Liang to return to his vehicle and drive back.

  Desperate, the colonel looked for some means of pursuing Cooper. He saw that there were more horses inside the barn—one of them even appeared to be saddled and ready to ride. Liang handed his sat phone to his comrade and told him, “Call Chen. Tell him Cooper is headed toward the Killdeer Mountain facility on horseback along the river. Tell him to use every man available to secure the perimeter. Then go to the vehicle and get back to the facility as quickly as possible. Tell Chen to be prepared for war.”

  “What will you do?” the man asked.

  “I’m going after Cooper.” Liang left the man and ran toward the barn. When he reached the building he was exhausted, but adrenaline kept him moving. Inside the barn
he found a mare that was saddled and ready to ride as he’d thought. It seemed odd, but he wasn’t going to question his luck. He stuck his rifle in the scabbard attached to the saddle, mounted the horse and rode off in the direction he’d seen Cooper leave.

  The trail was rough and it was a moonless night, but it never really got completely dark in the Badlands. With no light pollution to obscure them, the stars shone so brightly that they illuminated the landscape. When one’s eyes acclimated to the light, it was possible to see clearly on the darkest nights if the sky was clear. And this night the sky was as clear as Liang had ever seen it.

  The Ag Con agent pushed his horse as hard as he dared, but Cooper had a good lead on him. Even so, Liang was fairly certain he was on the right track because there weren’t many alternatives to the path he followed—the rest of the area was virtually impenetrable.

  At one point Liang had to make a decision between riding up into the mountains or crossing the river. Since the trail heading into the mountains seemed the most direct route to the Ag Con facility, he chose that path. It wound toward the top of the Killdeer Mountains. They were really just large hills, but because the elevation of the rest of the region was so low, they towered over the surrounding landscape.

  When Liang reached the top, he realized he’d made a mistake. This trail led to the west side of the mountains. If he kept following it, it would take him all the way around to Gap Road, but that would take at least another two hours, and it most certainly wasn’t the route Cooper had taken. So he rode back down and when he reached the fork in the trail, he chose the path that led to the water.

  He crossed the river, which by this point had angled eastward and was flowing toward the Missouri River. The water was starting to get quite deep this close to the Big Missouri. Had the water been much deeper, his horse would have needed to swim across. He followed the trail for about two miles. Looking at the rugged terrain on the opposite side of the river made him understand why the path led along this side—the opposite side was impenetrable. Liang knew the trail would have to cross the river one more time because the upcoming terrain on this side was even more rugged, and as soon as the terrain on the opposite bank began to level off a bit the path did indeed head back into the water.

  Once again the water was deep, but still not deep enough to force his horse to swim across. Once back on the other side of the river, the trail headed into the hills. This time there were no options—this was the one and only possible course. Liang rode his horse up a series of switchbacks and reached a small plateau. There he found Cooper’s horse tethered to a fallen juniper tree. The man was nowhere in sight, but Liang knew where he was heading—they were less than half a mile from the fence marking the north perimeter of the Ag Con facility.

  WHEN BOLAN SAW that Kadrmas and Kemp were on their way to the relative safety of Medora, he rode off following the trail that Kadrmas had pointed out. He rode slowly at first, watching the taillights of Kadrmas’s pickup disappear down the long driveway, making certain they were safe. Once they were out of sight he picked up the pace.

  When he felt comfortable enough with the horse to loosen the reins, Bolan took out his sat phone and called Stony Man Farm. He gave Kurtzman an abbreviated version of everything that had happened since they’d last spoken. “I’m heading for the Killdeer Mountains compound,” Bolan said. “I’m about thirty minutes out. Have you uncovered anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Kurtzman said. “I’ve got some names for you. Chen Zhen and Colonel Liang Wu. We suspect Chen is the mastermind behind the Ag Con buyout, and everything points to his being behind the plot to poison the country’s beef supply with prions, as well. He’s personally overseeing Ag Con’s North Dakota operations. If you plan to cut off the head, he’s it.”

  “Who is Colonel Liang Wu?” Bolan asked.

  “He’s the man who started the Guangzhou Military Region Special Forces Unit program.”

  “So basically you’re telling me that I’m up against the father of China’s special forces program.”

  “That would be him. Have you run into any particularly tenacious opponents?”

  “I have,” Bolan said. “The man who shot me would fit that description.”

  “Watch for him, Striker. He’s dangerous.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “We’ve also uncovered the name of the man leading the research team working on the prions—Zoeng Wei. He was one of China’s top genetic researchers, but he disappeared from the scientific community about two years ago. Most of his colleagues assumed he had run afoul of the Chinese government, but it turns out he’s been working for the cabal that bought Ag Con all this time.”

  “What have you been hearing from the chatter among the local law-enforcement agencies?” Bolan asked.

  “It appears that Sheriff Jim Buck has gone AWOL,” Kurtzman said. “His squad car is at the sheriff’s office, but there’s no sign of him. Apparently his wife was arrested for prostitution at the Four Bears Casino in New Town early this morning. Most of the locals assume that’s why the sheriff has disappeared. We have reason to think otherwise.”

  “Why’s that?” Bolan asked.

  “We intercepted a cell phone transmission between a couple of suspected local drug kingpins, a couple of cousins named Gordon and Dan Gould.”

  “I’ve heard of Gordon Gould,” Bolan said. “He’s some sort of bigwig with the local cattlemen’s association. And I’ve seen the other one’s name on damn near every used car lot in this part of the state. They’re narcotics traffickers?”

  “Big-time meth producers, we think. They use the auto dealerships to launder the money.”

  “What do they have to do with this?” Bolan asked.

  “Gordon Gould is tight with Ag Con. He’s on the board of trustees for their U.S. operations. He’s definitely a person of interest. We intercepted a phone call between him and his cousin that mentioned a problem with the sheriff.”

  “Do you know where I can find these two?”

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Kurtzman said. “Dan Gould is a pilot, and he flies a twin-engine Beechcraft. He just registered a flight plan a few minutes ago.”

  “Where’s he going?” Bolan asked.

  “His ultimate destination is Ames, Iowa.”

  “Let me guess,” Bolan offered. “Ag Con has a major cattle-feed distribution operation in Ames.”

  “You’re correct. But he’s making one stop along the way, at a small airstrip north of Killdeer. It’s about ten miles from the Ag Con facility in the Killdeer Mountains.”

  “Maybe Chen had to arrange alternate travel plans when I shot down one of his helicopters,” Bolan said, thinking out loud.

  “Sounds like a good possibility. It looks like they’re about to put their plan into motion any moment. You don’t have much time.”

  Bolan signed off and put away his sat phone, then gave the horse his heels. The trail was rough but Kadrmas had trained the horse well and he trotted over the rocky, steep terrain with relative ease. Bolan made it to the GPS coordinates he’d selected more quickly than he’d anticipated.

  By that time the sun was coming up. He pulled his QBZ assault rifle from the scabbard attached to the saddle and made sure it had a full 30-round magazine. He stuffed his remaining magazines into one of the drop pouches strapped to his leg, took a long drink of water from the canteen he was leaving behind, and jogged off toward the perimeter of the Ag Con compound.

  When he was within about one hundred yards of the fence, he spotted a patrol. Two Chinese men armed with assault rifles were walking down what appeared to be a well-trodden path through a depression that ran between two rocky ridges. Bolan climbed atop a ridge and waited for them to approach.

  The Executioner slung his rifle, pulled the combat knife from its boot sheath and unfolded the blade. As the two guards passed beneath his position, Bolan leaped forward. The tops of their heads were about five feet below the rock from which the soldier launched himself, and h
is boot heels caught one of them right on the top of his skull. The man collapsed under his assailant’s weight, and the soldier could feel the bone in the man’s skull crushing beneath his boots when they hit the rocky ground.

  The other man started to shout, but before he’d even hit the ground Bolan had swung the knife in a wide arc, bringing the tip of the blade straight down through the top of the second guard’s skull. All three men toppled to the ground, but only Bolan stood up again.

  The Executioner looked around to see if anyone had heard the commotion, but the coast appeared to be clear. He once again made his way toward the fence, prepared to encounter more patrols. By now Chen had to have known that Liang and his men had failed to kill him, and he had to have suspected that the soldier’s next move would be to try to rescue Bowman and Grevoy.

  Bolan could tell that the fence was electrified without even checking, just by the grass growing along its base. The local wildlife was savvy about electric fences; the animals would eat the grass right up to the edge of an electric fence but wouldn’t touch it. The rotting carcass of a mule deer fawn crumpled at the base of the fence several yards away from Bolan’s position told the soldier that this wasn’t the ordinary sort of electric fence that cattle ranchers used to give their livestock mild shocks, but rather a deadly high-voltage unit. Most companies had ceased using this type of fence, since to be effective, it had to be lethal, which most responsible organizations considered unsafe. Bolan doubted that would be a consideration for an organization planning to kill millions of people by poisoning the food supply.

  The fence was a serious piece of equipment, fourteen feet high, with twenty-eight charged strands and twenty-eight ground strands. The unit was topped by razor wire. With enough time, Bolan could probably defeat the fence, but since time was of the essence the soldier decided to try another tactic. If there were patrols outside the fence, they had to have a way to get in and out. He’d just have to find it.

  WHEN CHEN RECEIVED the call from Liang’s man telling him to prepare for an attack from Cooper, his worry over the mysterious stranger was tempered somewhat by his relief that Liang was coming back to the compound. The man had been behaving in a rather erratic fashion lately, but that was uncharacteristic behavior. In all the years he had known Liang, the man had represented the consummate professional soldier. Cooper had brought out something in Liang that bordered on pride, but Chen had never encountered an opponent as tenacious and skilled as Cooper, and neither, he suspected, had Liang. Chen couldn’t hold it against his comrade that the ruthless American had gotten under the man’s skin.